Songbird
by playingfree
Summary: A side story to Jailbird that explores the intimate relationship of Julian and Vivian during the early years of the Extermination War. [Rated T for slight cursing & violence. OOC. Julian x OFC. OC Story. You are warned!]
1. Chapter 1

~ I don't own Dominion. ~

 **Songbird.**

* * *

Chapter One.

She awoke to the buzz of a radio, quiet and incoherent. Her head throbbed steadily, rested upon an itchy woven sack. Although she couldn't see them, she couldn't recognise her surroundings; they felt foreign in comparison to the bunker she had been holed up in.

Her thoughts were lost in a hazy fog, but silhouettes danced in front of her eyes; ones with wings and swords. Comfort enveloped her unnerved mind, relaxing her tensing body, and prompting her to reserve her energy. Amid the fog in her head, she could see a grainy memory; she could hear car brakes screeching to a halt, ambulance and police sirens roaring—she could feel the horrible emotion of loss.

A familiar face popped up, one she remembered as Melissa Jones. Her skin was paler than death, eyes blacker than coal and teeth sharper than those of a shark. Melissa was screaming a foreign language at the authorities, leaping over their vehicles as if playing leapfrog. She remembered that evening in New Orleans, it was the first night of the Extermination War; when angels had descended from the skies and possessed those with weak hearts.

Melissa had been an artist, living beneath her in a flat full of paints and canvases. She had been a lucky woman with a bright personality; it had all been wiped away, though.

As for the owner of these memories, she didn't remember much about herself; she suffered from amnesia. It had been that way since the beginning of this war, she liked to believe it was the last good thing God offered to her; a clean slate.

 _[ ]_

Brightness shone into the dark space, blinding the amnesiac momentarily. She flinched upon feeling the vehicle—in the light, it was obvious she had been contained in the bed of a military-like truck—dip, anxiety beginning to gnaw away at her relaxation; she hated the fear that clawed at her settled mind.

She estimated one person—male, larger and older than herself—approaching her. His breathing was steady, but an unhealthy wheeze could be heard if one listened close enough, and he whispered soothing words; as if he were talking to an easily startled rabbit.

"C'mon, up and at 'em." He murmured, tugging her from the uncomfortable metal bed. She was pulled from the truck, confused and anxious, which helped the elderly man guide her towards a small group of men; they seemed to be her escorts to... _whoever, wherever_ or _whatever_. "Keep a close eye on her, lads."

The men gave a chorus of responses and she kept quiet. She cooperated with her captors, not that she was pleased with the rough treatment given by them, and found herself being guided down a gloomy corridor. A pair of hands remained on her wrists, prompting her to walk at a quicker pace; she would rather _not_ be pushed for dragging her feet, thanks.

Focusing her eyes in front of her, she found herself worrying over the horrifically tight space of the corridor. She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders and tried to understand these foreign feelings. She lived within a bunker in a once foreign wasteland, hidden deep underground and protected by the layers above, and she had never _once_ felt claustrophobic; she had stuck to the bunker specifically because she hadn't.

So, there was absolutely no explanation for the sudden burst of it. She wanted to sum it up to the unfamiliar surroundings and strangers, but she couldn't make herself believe that; she had jumped camps in the beginning of the war, getting ahead of the angels by never sitting in one place for too long, and she had never experienced such a powerful feeling.

"So, what's your name?" The elderly man asked, voice low with a Southern drawl. "I like to know my future prisoners."

"I don't know." She replied softly, sparing him a glance; he seemed sceptical of the response. She elaborated, "I'm an amnesiac."

"Oh, right." He didn't seem too convinced, just like every other person to learn of her disorder. She could understand their viewpoints, as an amnesiac in the apocalypse was considered suspicious; she had learnt to ignore it, though.

 _[ ]_

The buzz of a vintage projector was loud within the quiet room, quietened only by chuckles and the rush of liquid in a bottle. They had been standing in the background for a good ten minutes, waiting for the man to pay them some attention; she doubted that would happen without some prompting.

"Give me a minute, Gus." He told the elderly man, shooing him away for the umpteenth time.

Gus took a deep breath and returned to the group, apologising once again. "He's a social butterfly usually, trust me." He murmured to the amnesiac, shaking his head. "Honestly, you'd think we'd be grateful for these moments of antisocial behaviour."

"I can still hear you, Gus." The antisocial butterfly muttered, taking another swig from his bottle. "If you're so eager, untie the girl and bring her over."

Gus seemed unsure about the suggestion, looking between the pair with wary eyes. Clearing his throat, Gus took her wrists and untied them, just like the butterfly had asked; she felt horrible for putting the old man in such a situation. However, she still descended the carpeted steps and rubbed at her sore wrists; it would be better to get things sorted out quickly, or she could find herself in an ugly fight.

Hopping over the back of the sofa, she landed a seat or two over from the leather clad man, unsure of her situation. He seemed like quite a casual guy, slouched and ignoring her for a minute or two, and she felt strangely comforted with one leg pulled up to her chest and her eyes gazing lazily at the silent film.

It...held a nostalgic feeling about it.

The man turned his head to look at her, "Drink?" He asked.

"Ew, no!" She hissed without hesitation, cheeks burning bright red as the man started laughing. He stretched an arm over the back of the sofa, grinning impishly as he took a swig from his bottle.

"That...was the cutest refusal I've received for a drink." He commented and she tensed her shoulders, glaring. "How about a glass of water, then?"

She was slightly slower to respond, her mind buzzing with childish and abrupt insults. She muttered, "You're gonna drug it."

The man looked offended— _genuinely_ offended—by the accusation. "Drugging people isn't my style, love." He replied, agitated. "Giving people chances, getting to know them and their motives; that's more up my street."

He returned his attention to the film, tapping his fingers upon the back of the sofa. She remained quiet for a minute or two, dark eyes looking to the film; she had never been one for silent films, but it was somehow... _fitting_ to this. It gave her time to observe without distracting her with loud explosions, it gave her time to rethink her stubbornness.

Due to her tactic to remain underground, she had developed an antisocial behaviour; nobody bothered her, so she didn't bother anyone. Parts of her past personality remained, but it was enveloped by void—impossible to reach, impossible to find. Despite the praise many would give her, they would never understand the difficulty of it all; she would never wish it upon anyone, not even an angel.

She huffed furiously, scooting to the very end of the sofa and pulling a square cushion to her chest, burying her face into her arched legs. Tears burned the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall; she gnawed on her bottom lip to quieten herself.

As the projector continued to buzz, silence fell over them for a long period of time. Ten minutes turned to twenty minutes, twenty minutes turned to thirty minutes...

She didn't talk until the very credits of the film, but even then it was a simple and quiet question: "Can I still have a glass of water?"

Unsure if he had heard her, she peeked up from her cocoon, glancing towards the other end of the sofa; he wasn't there. Instead, he stood over by a counter with an almost relaxed stance; he was pouring her a glass of water, whistling low and quiet.

"Um..." She called softly, catching his attention for a moment. "Could you...prove it? Like, prove you didn't poison it?"

He nodded with a shrug, not seeming bothered by the distrust now. Once he had filled the glass, he took a sip from it and waited a couple of seconds, eventually looking to her with curious eyes; she nodded slowly. He returned to the sofa with the glass in his hand, "Don't spill it on my couch, love."

"What? Did you pay good money for it?" She muttered sarcastically, taking the glass from him.

He replied, "I traded most of my record collection for it." She cracked a half smile.

"You got ripped off, mate." Taking small sips from the glass, she was relieved to feel the cold liquid spill down her throat; it had been months since she had felt refreshed from drinking something. "The cushions are great, though."

He huffed, "Really? I've awoken with neck cramps from sleeping on these things."

"Women are adapted to cramps, they know all the right ways to sleep with 'em." She teased, "You should stick to beds, you'll survive longer."

"Are you..." The man scooted forward, lips curving into a toothy smile. He held his hand out, "I'm Julian."

She was still for a second, unsure of her answer; it would be unfortunate to ruin the moment, but her name continued to remain a mystery to her. However, she still took his hand in her own and shrugged, "Vivian."

"Well, Vivian..." Julian stopped her from questioning the choice, which she was both irritated and pleased by. "Welcome to New Delphi."

* * *

 **A/N: Ah, finally! I have completed this first chapter, take that! I shall not be defeated!**

 **Due to the many Julian x Raguel thoughts bustling around in my head, I decided that I wanted to write a side story to Jailbird, which is based within season two (and three, if they decide to carry the show on).**

 **Songbird will explore the intimate relationship between these two and it takes place _way_ back in the early years of the Extermination War. That means no freakin' canon drama, plus almost free will to discover Julian as a character; I'm excited for it.**

 **As this is slightly different to my comfort zone, I do ask that readers are patient! I never really write couples, thus I don't know the difference between several things. However, I have my own portrait of their relationship in my mind and I plan to stick with it.**

 **This chapter is slightly shorter than I plan to make the others, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!**

 **Ah! Also, due to the storyline I have planned for this story, _Raguel_ will be referred to as _Vivian_ in this story. Just felt the need to clarify that.**

 **Reviews are appreciated, but don't feel pressured.**


	2. Chapter 2

~ I don't own Dominion. ~

 **Songbird.**

* * *

Chapter Two.

 **[** A Couple of Days Later... **]**

Placing the emptied bowl upon the counter, Vivian pushed through the gathering line and left the room, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. She was going to return to her cell and begin her daily routine of doing nothing—ignoring people and sleeping had become two of her favourite hobbies!

Actually, she just wanted to leave the city and return to her bunker, where life had been so much easier. She had been able to live without annoying restrictions, which kept her separated from the local citizens; she was just an _outsider_ , someone they were keeping until they were _sure_ she wouldn't bring trouble to their city.

Honestly, she thought it would be better if she just returned to her bunker; she had been secluded underground for the entirety of the past few months, only making quick runs to nearby homes and stores to pick up remaining supplies. She had been alone during all of that time, she had killed the monsters that this city accepted so carelessly...

She may be flexible to equality and acceptance, but she wanted no part in the bloodbath that would undoubtedly take place.

 _[ ]_

Drumming her fingers against the table, Vivian stared at the blank sheet of paper with growing irritation; she had nothing. Without the freedom to leave the city, Vivian didn't have a lot of inspiration for a new piece—gloomy corridors without many interesting aspects just seemed...dreary.

She had never realised that colour had played such a big part in her art, especially since she didn't particularly enjoy using them due to an annoying lack of art stores within walking distance of her bunker. Greens, purples, oranges; blacks, blues and reds—she missed the shading and colouring each of these could introduce.

Guiding her pencil along the paper, she found herself drawing connecting lines without much purpose. It was a drawing exercise she had taken up, something she found quite therapeutic, regardless of the toll it took on her body; she had strengthened her mind a considerable amount, but her body had become weak and fragile to abuse. She could still run and walk, climb and duck—but she couldn't fight, which was a weakness that she couldn't afford within this city.

And yet, she couldn't actually bring herself to perform known exercises; she just wanted to remain secluded in her own bubble of irritation towards lack of colour.

"What're you drawing?" An accented voice questioned from the other side of the room, shocking the girl out of her thoughts. She turned in her chair quickly, dropping her pencil back onto the desk and glaring at whoever had entered the room; it was none other than the leader of this city, Julian. "Did I frighten you? My apologies."

"Uh, it's fine." Her lips curved into a half smile and she shrugged, "I forgot that you wanted to interrogate me about my fictional group, so I should be the one apologising."

Julian chuckled at the blatant sarcasm. "I suppose I should be grateful that you're actually speaking to me tonight."

Vivian turned back to her drawing with a hum, picking her pencil up. "I don't wanna talk tonight, unless we're talking about my promised freedom; I don't care."

She had spent far too many evenings answering the repetitive questions of Gus and Julian—losing her temper and telling them to...well, you get the idea. She wanted to spend at least one evening with herself, regardless of what she was doing; she didn't mind counting the cracks in the wall if it meant no interrogation with two idiots.

They were convinced she was nothing more than a spy, an accusation that held no truth to it; she applauded their persistence, though it was useless against her. She had been careful about her decisions and actions in New Delphi, keeping her crimes to a minimal and remaining civil to those who spoke to her—she had made herself a front that left no room for dirt to her name, she had created something that was keeping her alive and safe for now. It would be something she'd drop immediately after leaving.

Vivian didn't have much interest in the war, she would admit; she didn't particularly care if it continued or stopped, she just wanted to remain free from it. Interested or not, she had still remained aware of the difference between 2016 and now; she had created strategies to help herself survive, she was alive purely because she was intelligent; she didn't rely on the firearms or swords that littered society, instead keeping herself unarmed and using detailed schemes to deceive her enemies.

Many had labelled her insane and Vivian completely agreed with them; she had lost any sense a couple of years ago, but insanity seemed to be serving as the new nuclear weapon in the present days. She hadn't met one person who had remained the same domestic person they had once been; they had each taken different shapes of madness, whether they had taken a violent or pacifistic route was another story, though.

Vivian had travelled the road of a pacifist since the beginning of the apocalypse, but she realised that the road had become tinted with bloodshed over time; it was impossible for anyone to remain completely innocent in this world, everyone had to do things that they wouldn't have done before. It was survival of the fittest, although she detested that phrase; it was true, the weak-minded were possessed by the lower angels and the strong stood behind their chosen leaders to defeat the abominations.

Once again, Vivian lifted her attention from her drawing to glance over her shoulder, glare softening into a bemused stare. She asked, "You...haven't left yet?"

Julian shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, leaning heavily against the wall behind him. He answered, "You still have questions, I didn't want you to get lost."

"How considerate of you." She muttered sarcastically, drawing a snigger from the older man. She added, "And I don't have any questions for you, so just...please leave."

That was a lie—a blatant lie that she confirmed by glancing away upon meeting his eyes. She had far too many questions for Julian, but she refused to ask them; she wanted to leave this city without any memories of how it felt to be welcomed into a community, especially since this community consisted of the monsters that had ruined her life. If they hadn't thrown a temper tantrum, Vivian was sure she would be sitting in her apartment crying over some fantasy film on Netflix with a tub of ice cream; she was glad she could still remember those evenings, they were...good.

"Are you hell-bent on remaining isolated?" Julian asked, crossing the room with deliberately loud footsteps. "You won't get anywhere with an attitude like that."

The chair was pushed backwards with a screech of protest as Vivian quickly got to her feet, vaguely aware of the unnatural pain in her hand; it took a once-over of the table to realise she had crushed her pencil with her hand, which had resulted in pieces of wood digging their ways into the skin; blood had started to roll down the pieces, dripping onto the drawing she had been focused on only ten minutes ago.

"What in hell's name would you know?" She questioned furiously, backing away from the desk with unsteady steps; she had never enjoyed the sight of blood. She should have left this godforsaken city when she had been given the opportunity, but she had been stupid enough to believe she would be able to survive a couple of days in here.

She found herself sitting on the bed with her hand cradled against her chest, dark eyes becoming glazed over with tears that fell almost immediately. She regretted deciding to venture outside of her usual area, she should have taken the advice of her gut and returned to her bunker...and yet she had followed her curiosity into a death trap; that was a classic mistake only _she_ could make—sometimes she hated herself for being human.

Vivian remembered the decisions that had kept her alive, but she had a reliable argument for her unreliable curiosity; the area that she was familiar with, the supplies in it had started to drop significantly over the past couple of weeks and her bunker wasn't a particularly great place to grow the seeds she had been gathering. She had waited a couple of days before making the decision, allowing her stomach to growl with a hungry burn; it had taken a lot of willpower to pull herself from the bunker, but she had decided that starving wasn't a death she particularly wanted to experience.

She was here because her instinct to chase survival was too dominant; she was attempting to calm her breathing because her temper was too short. Her hand throbbed with a horrible sting—it felt as if she had been electrocuted, but only in her hand; she didn't even want to consider the thought of sparing a look at the wounds, because the feeling of fresh blood dripping down her hand was enough to make her queasy.

It was embarrassing to cry in front of someone she wanted to express no interest towards, but it had been a while since her body had experienced abuse—excluding the times when Vivian had clumsily injured herself by knocking her elbow or stubbing her toe, but those times were something that could only haunt her in the sleepless evenings that she spent with her thoughts and memories.

"Could you leave, please?" Vivian asked, voice trembling without the calm breathing she usually authorised. "I...I need some time to myself."

Julian responded, "Do you want someone to check that out? It looks pretty bad." She shook her head slowly, asking if she could borrow a first aid kit instead.

Despite the hesitance that Julian expressed towards the idea, he still nodded his head in agreement; she was grateful for the cooperation. She murmured, "Thank you."

"I want you to promise me something, though." He stated seriously, bringing her gaze to meet his uncertain eyes. "Don't do anything stupid, Vivian—it's difficult to release a corpse."

The bizarre comment shocked a sweet laugh from the pained woman; a rare noise that she hadn't made properly for several months. Using her uninjured hand to cover her grin, Vivian shook her head as she tried to comprehend the strange humour—it was one of the few things she found herself appreciating. She chuckled, "Idiot."

A lopsided smile curved Julian's lips, before he excused himself to grab the first aid kit and left her to relax.

 _[ ]_

After she had removed the pieces of wood, Vivian both stitched and bandaged her hand up, before placing the first aid kit under her bed for future use. Now, she was laying on her side with her head nestled into the uncomfortable pillow, thinking about the past few days.

They had certainly been abnormal—perhaps _abnormal_ was an understatement, but you get the picture. When she had been holed up in her bunker, the thought of other survivors was a joke to her; she had heard of Vega and Helena, of course, but she had never considered travelling to join their communities; she was almost grateful that she had experienced New Delphi first. Even if she hated sleeping under the same roof of the possessed, Vivian felt that her personality would help her blend in with the locals.

From close observation over the past couple of days, Vivian had realised that New Delphi attracted outcasts, criminals and loners; there didn't seem to be many laws, feuds were sorted by firearms, fists and knives...she had seen far too much within her time here.

For example, she had seen some poor woman being carried down a corridor by two men, both of whom kept stopping to pick up stray entrails; she had overheard that the woman had been gutted by her neighbouring member of the possessed. Vivian had never fled from a scene so quickly before, honestly.

However, she had also realised something quite annoying; Julian had been looking for a reaction from her for the past couple of days—he had been observing her reactions to different subjects, which would explain the horrendous situations she had unintentionally found herself in, such as the evening when two thugs had confronted her whilst she was returning to her cell...oh hell, that had been an interesting night.

Regardless of the entertainment she got from the memories, Vivian realised that Julian had been intentionally trying to kill her in too many situations; she had never known someone that tested someone through literal murder scares—or maybe she had and she just couldn't remember! Well, that was a thought that was going to keep her up.

Either way, she turned to face the wall in a pathetic attempt to block out the harsh light and get some sleep; she could confirm that she wouldn't be successful, as she had been trying for about three evenings now. Yes, she was somehow guessed this was karma for mocking Julian; no, she wasn't going to stand for it.

* * *

 **A/N: Ugh, I've never felt so grateful to get a chapter over with. [Sigh of relief]**

 **Anyway, I've been restarting this chapter over and over again because I didn't know how I wanted Vi to be...**

 **Vi** — **like her archangel counterpart** — **is a very complex character with a personality that is basically divide by zero. I know exactly what I want to do with her, but I'm struggling to put the story into a document; so I've been incredibly frustrated with this chapter, haha. xP**

 **However, I have so many cute things planned for Vi and 'Lian, so that's managed to keep me sane for this chapter. Eeeek, I'm literally so excited to write this story, even though I'm crap at updating it! xD**

 **Anywho, what're your thoughts on Vivian at the moment? I'm curious to hear your opinion on this chapter, too! c:**

 **Feel free to drop a review, but don't feel pressured. x**


	3. Chapter 3

~ I don't own Dominion. ~

 **Songbird.**

* * *

Chapter Three.

When the next morning broke the evening sky, Vivian found herself sitting at an empty table in the cafeteria with a carton of orange juice; she hadn't slept very well. It was difficult to fall asleep upon such an uncomfortable mattress, she was sure she would have found more comfort from the floor, but she wasn't going to stick around to find out—she was leaving this godforsaken city today, regardless of what anyone said.

"Hey kid, you've been quiet this morning." Gus croaked from the table behind, but she chose to ignore his comments today. "Are you gonna ignore me, princess?"

 _Damn right_ , she replied mentally and took a couple of sips from her carton. Despite her easygoing outlook towards the elderly, Vivian would admit that she wouldn't have interacted with Gus before the apocalypse; she wouldn't have even spared him a second glance, because he was just too...in-your-face for her liking—she'd rather deal with the troublemakers she had met on the road, rather than spend an evening sharing war stories with the old southerner.

Upon hearing the table creak in slight protest, Vivian blinked and refocused her attention to find Gus taking a seat across from her; she barely managed to conceal her groan. He was the first to speak, "Julian has taken a real liking to you, y'know that? Won't stop whining about how I'm too rough with you."

"Well ain't he considerate?" Vivian answered with a mock southern accent, something that resembled that of a stereotypic cartoon.

Gus gave a throaty chuckle at the imitation of his accent. "Actually, I have a question for you—considering I'm under... _strict_ orders to treat you as a guest, not a prisoner."

It wasn't difficult to pick up on the hostility aimed towards his superior, Julian. She was right to assume that they didn't particularly see eye to eye, right? It was difficult to imagine them getting along whilst contemplating their next move, but someone had told her that opposites attract; but maybe this was in a more father-son sort of way, as she had seen the way Gus practically looked after Julian—as if the Englishman was his own son.

Vivian found it sweet that some positivity could be created in such a negative laced city, but it still wasn't enough to make her stay; she was still someone who loved the feeling of being home with security that protected her from the possessed, someone who loved mapping out her next drawing without any disturbances—and she just couldn't get that vibe here, even though she had repeatedly tried over and over again.

Without waiting for confirmation, Gus asked, "Can you tell me something about yourself?"

It was difficult to swallow without choking for a good five seconds, because the question definitely took her by surprise. She had expected something cruel or sarcastic; something that would make her eyes roll and her temper spike, not something that made her smile slightly at the very man who hadn't trusted her from day one. However, she was still reluctant to answer the seemingly innocent question; people didn't just change, she had learnt that the difficult way.

"Sorry, I'm not in the mood for chitchat." She declined with a shrug of her shoulders, hoping to mask her discomfort with flippancy. "Perhaps that bottle of alcohol is, though."

Silence raced through the cafeteria, triggered by Gus hitting the table with enough force to tip over her carton of orange juice; what a waste. Lips curving into a victorious smile, Vivian squinted at the elderly man through innocent eyes—she couldn't believe how easy it was to wind someone up here, it was as if they were completely ignorant to the fact that they practically oozed **DO NOT TOUCH** signs for their triggering subjects. The apocalypse seemed to have taken away braincells, too; who would have guessed?

Deciding that she didn't want to stick around any longer, Vivian pulled herself away from the tempting offer to stay and taunt some more; she needed to start packing. Surprisingly enough, Gus was sober enough to retort sharply, "You should watch your tongue around here; intelligence and observation won't get you far in a fist fight."

Ignoring the brutish laughter that followed after her, Vivian sauntered out of the cafeteria; she didn't even want to argue over the fact that intelligence and observation could get you exceptionally far in a fight, specifically ones that required the patience to do so. Honestly, she had spent enough time mapping out safer routes to return to her cell, due to the consistent scares and attempts on her head from Julian; she was glad she had decided to leave earlier than the Englishman planned.

 _[ ]_

Once she had returned to her cell, Vivian didn't find herself packing the rucksack she had stolen from the marketplace—she found herself sitting upon her bed with an old book opened over her lap, entranced by the fictional world she had considered lost to the apocalypse; she hadn't felt such childish glee since the loss of her memories, because anything she remembered had been left behind in New Orleans—the city that had been reduced to oddly shaped rocks and dust, serving as nothing but a graveyard.

With her rucksack abandoned on the floor, Vivian had allowed herself to enter the forgotten land of mythical creatures and lands; she had allowed herself to explore with innocent curiosity, questioning the possibilities of different universes; she had missed being able to escape into her imagination without the ominous threat of menacing thoughts, such as the cruel reminder that someone could use this moment to slit her neck or do something worse. She wasn't staying in the safest city, either.

When she had been given unlimited time to herself in the bunker, Vivian had been capable of remembering the sweet little girl who had cried wolf—someone who had never been treated equally, but had continued to wear a polite smile; someone who had never been believed by the authorities of her abusive home environment, until it had been too late for anyone to catch a glimpse of that innocent girl again...

She had fallen into something of a dark period, ripping that naivety from her personality and burying it deep; Vivian couldn't tell you if she regretted the decision or not, because the darkness seemed to be quite literal and the memories of that period were... _fuzzy_. However, she could tell you that she had discovered the addictive books of fiction during that time; they had been one of the few things to bring a genuine glow to her smile, providing her with foreign lands to explore.

The Chronicles of Narnia were seven of her favourite books, a series that lit up some of the foggiest memories; she couldn't ever forget the times she had spent staring at her wardrobe when she had been trying to sleep, hoping Lucy would whisk her away from the horrendous life she had lived and give her a fresh start in Narnia. Unfortunately, she couldn't see any talking lions or dancing trees today—she could only see vicious angels and pessimistic humans, but she supposed Narnia could come in different shapes; the apocalypse just happened to be one of the less...welcome ones.

Taking a deep breath, Vivian used one hand to wipe away the gathering tears, snivelling. After she finished reading the last paragraph on the page, Vivian closed the book and returned to her packing; it would be unfortunate if she was here when Julian or Gus came to fetch her for interrogation, because she needed to be in the storehouse that pointed in the direction of her bunker—why didn't she just use one of the others, you ask? It'd be a waste of precious time, that's why.

Packing consisted of throwing anything important into the rucksack—the most important were placed towards the bottom, such as the first aid kit and food supplies. She placed her clothes and books on top of them, throwing some paper and pencils over them. What? She wasn't going to let herself be caught if someone asked to look in her bag; she wasn't that stupid, jeez. Plus, she was going to lay low in her bunker for a couple of days and she didn't want to return to painting on the walls!

Once she was satisfied with the amount of belongings in the rucksack, she hoisted it up onto the bed and checked through it; she didn't want to leave anything behind, which prompted her to get to her feet and search the cell thoroughly. Fortunately, she found a few pieces of scrap paper tucked away under her bed—they would be helpful for starting a fire, so she hid them away in the front pockets of her bag; she could finally leave these nightmarish place, she could finally feel the wind dancing through her hair...

She was excited to be free from all of these stupid rules, which were both sexist and ageist; she had always been one for living life with her own set of rules, anyway. However, there was still one more thing she needed to do; she needed to write one final note to this city and claim her victory with a mocking bow.

 _[ ]_

The engine of the truck rumbled continuously, creating an addictive beat to soothe the triumphant woman; she hadn't realised stealing a vehicle would be _so_ easy. Although it had taken a couple of minutes to understand the confusing console of a military vehicle, Vivian had figured it out with some patience and curiosity—she had been leaving New Delphi within the first ten minutes of getting her hands on the truck, switching the radio station from broadcasts to music and basking in her victory over those who had hoped for the death illustrated by their leader. She was picturing the disappointment and it was an incredibly entertaining image.

Using one hand to control the wheel, Vivian sang along to the old song buzzing on the radio with rare enthusiasm; she allowed her free hand to catch the breeze, smiling. The journey ahead of her wouldn't be long, but she didn't have an exact length; it had been a long time since she had been forced to travel home from a foreign location, after all. However, she was going to use this free time to bring some entertainment to her curiosity—she would use her art supplies to sketch the landscapes, she would read her books and invent new outcomes for the characters; she would draw these characters, too.

It was rare that she was able to live outside of her bunker, so she was definitely going to make the best of it; regardless of the anxious nudge that urged her to return quickly. Honestly, she was looking forward to this new adventure—she guessed she had Julian to thank for giving her the opportunity to explore, but only a little! She would have left her comfort zone eventually, she was sure.

Speaking of Julian...she wondered if he had learnt of her escape yet, because it would be a bloody miracle if he hadn't. It was just passing midday, so she should have been sat in the cafeteria enduring sarcastic comments without much of an appetite; she had been careful to keep to her routine, so it should be considered suspicious if she didn't show up, right? If Vivian was the paranoid—and sadistic—leader of New Delphi, she would have considered her lack of presence unnerving; she would have checked it out.

Assuming that Julian had considered the unnerving no-show, he would have gone to her cell with the hope of finding her; it would be disappointing when he found nobody, only a made bed with a note left on the itchy grey sheets. She reckoned Julian would react curiously, rather than violently, and approach the note with cautious steps—he would keep his temper contained until he finished reading the note, which he would fold up with unneeded aggression and leave the room with.

He wouldn't show the farewell message to anyone, simply locking himself away in his study until he devised a plan to recapture her; she would be safe for another day, because he would be too cautious about this. It was an entertaining thought, knowing that a few words could drive such a composed man into a fit of unimaginable rage.

Despite her amusement towards the situation, Vivian would admit that she wasn't excited to face confrontation again, because she was sure it would be an unpleasant experience; she had observed Julian for a couple of days, maybe even a week, and she could tell that underneath his chivalrous façade—he was something darker than even the scariest nightmare. Someone with intelligence and power during an extermination was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

 _Thanks for the care & victory, butterfly.  
_ _I hope we meet again under more equal circumstances, I wish you luck until then..._

* * *

 **A/N: And thus, we get into the more gruesome part of their story; where Vi claims victory and mocks Julian with it. Oh, she learns so quickly.**

 **What're your thoughts on this turn of events? Do you think Vivian will continue her game against Julian, or do you think she'll drop it? Perhaps you have an entirely different opinion on the matter and those are welcome, too!**

 **I'm looking forward to writing more of Julian during these next few chapters; I'd also love to hear your thoughts on what you think he's going to do, because I'm curious to see if we're thinking the same thing, haha.**

 **Feel free to drop a review, but don't feel pressured. x**


	4. Chapter 4

~ I don't own Dominion. ~

 **Songbird.**

* * *

Chapter Four.

The gas station was abandoned like every other building in the wasteland, but it continued to give the rushed atmosphere from the past; as if waiting for the regular customers that were never returning. With the windows smashed by varying objects, spray paint stained the metal machines and the inside was picked clean of supplies; she had managed to find some warm soft drinks, stale sweets and someone's money...she was guessing it belonged to the corpse in the middle of an aisle, poor guy.

Only a couple of hours prior to the confrontation, Vivian had been sat upon the hood of her truck with a sketchpad resting on her lap, reluctantly digging her teeth into the tough food and washing the unsatisfying flavour down with one of the soft drinks. She could confirm that her taste buds were officially hating her for torturing them with such crap, too. It had been a few days since she had made her grand escape from New Delphi, where she would have eventually been killed for an imaginary threat, and she was beginning to near the coastline; she could create a compelling argument as to why navigating by water and not by land was a better survival tactic, but she didn't want to waste time again.

She could taste the salt in the atmosphere; hear the scream of seagulls in the distance; see the waves roaring over the rocks in her mind. She couldn't think of a time where she had felt more at peace internally, and she was eager to allow herself tranquillity before she returned to the underground realm she had grown accustomed to.

Lowering her eyes from the view of the station to the sketchpad in her lap, Vivian examined the lines that were drawn without much weight on them; a rough sketch of someone that looked similar to herself, except with the beginnings of elongated wings that resembled those of an angel; except she imagined they would hold more pride and power than the armoured wings she had experienced in past confrontations. Perhaps they would hold less blood, too—perhaps the blood would stain her hands instead...

Halting her thoughts with a quick shake of her head, Vivian flipped the sketchpad shut and placed it back into her bag, dropping her art supplies back in, too. Perhaps if she hurried and stopped her routine of checking abandoned buildings on the side of the road, she could make it to the coastline within the next couple of hours; maybe she would arrive sooner if she didn't run into the rumoured trouble that plagued many travellers with thoughts of heading out of this state, and Vivian would have hitched a ride with some generous folk if she hadn't been determined to keep innocent people out of her possible feud with Julian—it'd be safer to keep detached from strangers who showed kindness.

Jumping down from the hood of her vehicle, she grabbed her belongings and took a deep breath to calm her agitated nerves; she was almost home, she was almost free of these chains that had clamped around her wrists when she had left the safety of her bunker, and she was almost in a territory that she had spent time learning over the past couple of years; she could almost embrace a physical form of freedom from Julian. Once she had overcome this obstacle that stood between that promised gift, Vivian could completely disappear underground and she was willing to compromise with the tiring journey that it would take to do so; anything was worth her freedom, even if it meant certain death.

Pulling the door to the truck open, Vivian climbed inside with a bit of a huff at the height difference, tossing her supplies into the other seat before she slammed the door shut. Before she tugged her seatbelt over her shoulder, she fetched the keys from their hiding spot—wedged between the seats in the back—and made herself comfortable within the uncomfortable seat; she had another long journey ahead of her and she had spent too many trying to settle the numbing pain in her back due to these _stupid_ seats. Twisting the key into the ignition, Vivian jumped upon hearing the engine spring into life with a noticeable difficulty; she realised she would be walking once it gave out, but she didn't mind.

Leaving the gas station behind her, she settled into her daydreams with a slight frown upon her lips; it was disappointing to see how far society had fallen during the past few years of war, and she was beginning to wonder if her imagination had jumped too far ahead of her with expectations for the current world; she wondered if life underground without connection to anyone above ground was a better lifestyle than the one she had experienced over the past couple of days.

 _[ ]_

Drumming his fingers along the frame of the door, Julian attempted to sort the thoughts that were agitating his mind; the thoughts that had rattled around without pause. Standing beneath the boiling hot sun in the middle of nowhere, questioning the decisions of a clear lunatic, without an idea in his head as to which direction he should go...well, it wasn't exactly how he had imagined he'd be spending his free time this month; he was beginning to question why someone hadn't scolded him for his impulsive nature, honestly. However, he was too far from New Delphi to turn back without... _something_ , so he decided it wasn't worth complaining about the matter; he'd just be wasting his own time.

Although, he felt like he was wasting his time anyway, because his escapee was definitely more equipped for running away than he had originally thought. During their sessions, Vivian had always been quick to snap at them with a fiery hatred that had never quite made sense to Julian; he had watched her inch away from physical confrontation with an almost afraid expression marring her face, sometimes completely changing her route in order to avoid confrontation with older citizens who hadn't been too fond of her presence. And then she was telling both Julian and Gus to take a hike with vulgar language that had suffocated any sweetness they had been expecting from her; it just didn't make sense.

Honestly, he hadn't been expecting her to have knowledge on confusing her opponent when running from them, because she had seemed like the introverted type; one of those who had remained indoors before the war, someone who flinched at the sight of sunlight and spent the entire evening streaming depressing movies until early into the next day—someone who never actually took classes for survival skills, such as self-defence or something simple like starting a fire. He was beginning to learn that he was quick to judge, and Vivian had been conning him the entire time with innocent glances and sweet smiles; it seemed her temper had been the only part of her actual personality.

Regardless of the game she was playing, she was still lacking when it came to hiding and it seemed she was prone to stopping at abandoned buildings upon the side of the road, probably to take small things such as packets of chocolate and warm soft drinks. It was possible she stayed in them for a couple of minutes per stop, and it often seemed like he missed her by an hour or two; she seemed to be keeping the possibility that there was a feud between them in mind, which was probably keeping her awake and cautious for the entirety of her journey towards the coastline—she was probably only standing because she, like most women that remained within this world, was too stubborn to accept defeat.

Of course, it was a brilliant thing to have on your side when there was actually a purpose for it, but Julian was beginning to doubt that Vivian actually had a purpose any more. She had always spoken of somewhere beneath ground, but she had become wordless when he had asked about the place and he doubted it was because she hadn't trusted him, as she had muttered comments about not remembering; something that shouldn't have confused him because of her amnesia, but he just couldn't help his suspicion towards it. Ever since they had met a couple of days ago, Vivian had been able to give vague descriptions of the camps she had jumped from; each description bigger than the last.

...So, it didn't make sense to him that she couldn't give him a permanent and detailed description about the one place she had spent months in; maybe he was being paranoid. Either way, he hoped that she hadn't been lying about having somewhere safe to live, because the image of her losing confidence due to a fictional home only brought him pain; he had seen how this new era could easily mess with the younger survivors, and he would hate to see Vivian become isolated when she seemed like such a nice kid.

Maybe his sudden interest in her well-being was a little difficult to understand, but he had started to realise through his anger that he had once been like Vivian; alone, scared. He had needed someone in his life to keep him from following the path most of his co-workers had fallen onto, and he had grown angry because he had lost too many people to those who were closest to their deadbeat creator—he didn't want Vivian to land herself in danger because of her possible lies, so he had decided it'd be... _better_ if he were to just check up on her; even if she took it the wrong way and screamed at him in a language he didn't understand, Julian would be content knowing that she wasn't thinking of suicide.

...Also, he may have grown slightly attached to the lunatic over the past couple of days, regardless of his present irritation towards being left with only a _morning after_ note. Hell, he would be pleased if Vivian paled to concerning shades and apologised with a nervous smile as she inched away from him, because anything was better than the images that raced through his head—anything was better than looking into a mirror and seeing the person he had known a couple of months ago.

 _[ ]_

Before she managed to reach the coast, Vivian found herself sitting upon the side of the road, waiting; hoping. Having lost the vehicle a few miles back, she had salvaged some courage from the anxious depths of her mind and she had started her trek beneath the sweltering summer sun; it had proven to be an impossible task after an hour or two, and she had ungracefully collapsed with a thirst that just couldn't be satisfied by the remaining water she had in her bottle.

She had finished the last of the cheap chocolate from the gas station, but it had only encouraged her stomach to ache hungrily for more; she was guessing that the ache would grow into unbearable pain, until she was begging for the remnants of God to save her from the continued suffering. Speaking of God, Vivian realised she had never been fond of the entity, though she had never been able to explain her dislike towards Him; perhaps it was because he had abandoned his children, who resembled toddlers to her, to discover survival techniques without the smallest tutorial on how to do so without committing genocide.

She exhaled a long breath, wondering if anyone would pass this long road without vulgar intentions; she didn't have the strength to carry on for another few hours, let alone fight. Perhaps she would encounter Julian before that happened, perhaps she would willingly join him on his journey back to the city she had fled from—she was beginning to think that returning to New Delphi wasn't that bad, even if it meant having to sleep on a thin mattress and endure hours of repetitive questions to the extent of memorising each syllable. Honestly, she would agree with her lesser thoughts that those hours were better than the passing seconds she was experiencing right now.

Personally, she wasn't exactly comfortable being alone with her mind any more; she had started experiencing some dark hallucinations when tired or bored, but they were only glimpses caught in the windows of her truck. She had never heard them speaking, but they often expressed amusement or distaste with a frightening grin and hazed eyes. She hadn't even met the hallucination directly, but she could still feel a sense of dread wash over her whenever they appeared; they felt familiar—like the only remnant of family she had left on this entire toxin of a planet. She exhaled a long breath that she had been holding, shaking her head; she was delusional for even considering that thought.

If she had known any family before the first night, she was pretty damn sure she would remember them...and they wouldn't hold the persona of a bloody lunatic. It was probably nothing and she was simply lacking the needed nutrients because she hadn't consumed anything above stale chocolate and sickeningly warm soft drinks for the past few days; maybe she would have stolen more savoury foods from New Delphi if she had known that she would be subjected to the frightening hallucinations of her forgetful mind.

Groaning, Vivian closed her eyes in an attempt to hide the embarrassing defeat in a cloak of darkness; she couldn't believe that she had escaped from a toxin of this new world, only to be halted in her tracks by the annoying sense of human nature that needed to be satisfied with things that her enemies could ignore without hesitation. She had learnt through careful observation of those that believed themselves powerful that even the lowest angels were a dangerous threat to humanity, because they could ignore the simple needs that pulsated through anyone else on the planet; they were so caught up in their madness that they could ignore the bullets that survivors fired at them without a pause.

Honestly, she admired them for possessing such numbness and she wished she could still adopt such a feeling like it was her own, but it seemed the universe was conspiring against her once again; she could feel everything that a normal person felt, but it seemed to be amplified into something that made her question how she was still breathing. Panic started to build up inside of her, boiling through her hunger and thirst with impressive speed; she was probably going to become the dinner of one of those monsters, and it was possible that someone would spare her corpse a pitying glance rather than showing up right now and giving her a lift back to her home.

She found herself paralysed on the side of the road without a single coping mechanism streaming through her mind, and she wondered if this was how small children felt when their mothers left them in large stores to chat with an old friend; she wondered if this paralysis was the same numbness that raced through the dangerous family of archangels, enabling them to commit their crimes without feeling remorse or hesitation—she wondered if conversing with them would make them understand the inhabitants of this planet. Many people had immediately assumed war and cruelty would answer the childlike mind of Gabriel and send him cowering, but she wondered if he had experienced comfort.

Wow, she must be really experiencing death if her heart was aching for someone who had broken the established system of mankind; someone who would kill her without pause. Vivian took another deep breath and wrapped her arms around her head, lacing her fingers together and rocking herself backwards until she fell into the dust with a pointed thud; she sluggishly blinked her eyes upwards at the bullying sun and tried to fight the sudden urge to allow them to slide shut with the side effect of some much needed sleep.

And it seemed she was once again losing the battle, as her eyelids continued to grow heavier until she was considering pinning them open, but she wasn't given that opportunity; she found herself curling up into a tight ball and allowing herself to fall asleep for an uncertain amount of time. Her body was engulfed with the familiar blanket of being out of it and she could feel her mind beginning to rid itself of the intelligent warnings that wanted to keep her awake; she would rather die peacefully in her sleep than painfully awake.

"Isn't that just too adorable, huh?" A voice filled with many pitches and tones giggled from above her uncovered ear, sending a jolt of fright through her awakening body; she found herself jumping upwards from the ground in impressive timing—the recognisable laughter of a certain hallucination surrounded the entirety of her head, sliding from loud to quiet and heightening in both pitch and speed. "Did I scare you? Forgive me, but I don't exactly want to die in the middle of...America; Russia or Norway sounds prettier."

"Who are you?" Vivian questioned the voice, though she knew that it was simply another hallucination; something her mind was conjuring in an attempt to keep her from dying. She realised that she would only make herself become less in touch with reality if she continued speaking to the voice, as if it were standing before her with a racing heartbeat. She swivelled on her heel to face the unsettled ground with more curiosity than she had expressed for a couple of hours, "Do you have a purpose beyond tormenting me?"

"Keeping you...us...alive, duh." The voice answered with more laughter, seemingly speaking with a wide smile. It playfully continued, "Think of me as your fly on the wall, Vivian." An uncomfortable feeling crawled down her spine, encouraging an attack of shivers beneath her skin; she was beginning to feel like this voice held more darkness than herself.

"Why would you want to keep me alive? You're an imaginative creation." Vivian continued with her questions, which drew more answers from the voice; it seemed to possess an impressively sarcastic personality with intelligence that couldn't have been conjured by her own mind. It spoke like they were old friends discussing boys over takeaway and that brought an unexplainable pain to the auburn, which seemed to prompt the voice into taking a more physical appearance across from her; flickering into existence beneath the glowing strands of sun that crossed their paths with a blinding barricade.

It took on an appearance that mirrored her own, except with more references to a bloody fight that had left it scarred and injured without proper treatment; sympathy filled her. It stood with a much more casual posture than herself, hands tucked into its pockets and shoulders slumped backwards; a casual smile covering the mischief that shone through. The voice took on a more serious tone as it stared through the light, "Travelling in your state will lead you into an unnecessary death, so I'd suggest waiting for the attractive guy who you stole and ran from because...you're more paranoid than an entire group of specific supernatural beings."

... _Attractive?_ Vivian wondered if the burning in her face was from the sun or the embarrassment that singled out her expression, but she couldn't deny that the voice held a valid point to the argument of travelling ahead or not; she would most likely find the monsters she ran from and it'd be impossible to outrun them without a working vehicle. The voice slid to the ground without much of a further argument, gesturing for the other to join it in another long waiting session; she...supposed it'd be fun to learn more about the voice and also wait for the one man who could save her from this godforsaken hell she had guided herself into.

She hoped that Julian was feeling forgiving, too, because she doubted that they would get anywhere near an intelligent conversation if they were borderline murdering each other. The voice spoke once again before it settled into a more quiet persona, "If he wants to kill you; you could always flirt with him, steal his truck and leave him here with me." Yeah...she _really_ hoped that Julian wanted to guide her back to safety and not into the icy feeling of a bullet.

* * *

 **A/N: JESUS CHRIST AND LORD HAVE MERCY, I'M SO DONE WITH MY ENTIRE SELF TBH.**

 **I haven't updated this story, or Jailbird, in so freaking long and I am so sorry; though you probably didn't miss them that much...hehe. Fortunately, I've gotten some inspiration for multiple songs and managed to write the rest of this chapter, which I am so proud of myself for doing; I thought these stories were complete and utter goners because I couldn't pull myself together and write something that I was happy with.**

 **Jailbird is still in-progress at the moment, because the next chapter is planned to be considerably long; probably around 8,000 words or so. It's taking longer than I had expected to make the story flow without seeming forced or hurried, so please continue waiting and I'll hopefully have it up before the end of the century! ...Don't kill me, please.**

 **On a more positive (ish) note, I've finally gotten around to writing Julian's P.O.V! I _love_ writing in his P.O.V so much and I'm literally obsessed with his style at the moment, oh my gosh; I'll definitely be writing much more of his P.O.V and hopefully not make this story all about an attractive Englishman who needs to freaking chill. Honestly, I'm deep in the _I miss my sociopath_ zone at the moment, because there hasn't been an update on the return of Dominion... ;c **

**Eek, though! I'm super pleased with how this chapter came out and I'm super hyped for the next chapter, because I know stuff that you don't~ c;**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this freakishly short chapter and I hope you can forgive me for the wait; reviews are appreciated, but don't feel pressured. x**


	5. Chapter 5

~ I don't own Dominion. ~

 **Songbird.**

* * *

Chapter Five.

Instead of lingering on the time spent recovering from heatstroke under the care of her worst enemy, we'll skip to a particularly cool morning a couple of days before they would both return to New Delphi due to the murder-related rumours that had found them through passing survivors, who had barely managed to escape their pursuers without dropping all of their belongings and driving on fumes until they had fled from the dangers that they had lost precious family members and friends to; it was really quite bizarre timing. Admittedly, Vivian had been determined to continue in the direction of her bunker and had only been convinced that she would be committing suicide by Julian through an irritated lecture when she had disregarded his concerns for continuing on; she hadn't seen him so serious about a life that wasn't his own.

They had set up a camp within a small patch of forest near the coast, which had been one of the few requests that Julian had taken seriously when it came to this stupid journey, and there was something so peaceful about waking up to the soft crackle of a fresh fire and the hiss of waves washing into shore. On more mornings than not, Vivian often woke to the warmth of Julian's coat tucked around her small form and it had grown to be something of a routine for them; Julian claimed it was because he didn't know how to treat hypothermia without the necessary shelter to keep her genuinely warm, but Vivian believed it was because he couldn't cope with hearing her shivery whimpers within the nights. She hummed into the collar of the clothing as she slowly started to wake up, nestling into the addicting warmth with every intention of falling back asleep; it felt too early.

However, she was shocked awake when the chilled morning air engulfed her warm body and she shot upwards almost immediately, glaring upwards to meet the amused eyes of Julian as she shivered in the unwelcome chill. Before she could even begin to shout at him for such an uncalled for awakening, Julian took her by the hands and pulled her up to her feet, wrapping his coat back around the almost frozen woman; she welcomed the gesture and buried herself in the oversized piece of fabric. "Good morning, sunshine."

Smiling bitterly at the sarcastic comment, Vivian slipped her arms through the sleeves and snapped through tightly gritted teeth, "I sincerely hope our creator stops being a deadbeat so that he can throw you into hell himself, Julian." And even though she tried to remain angry at the other for scaring her so badly, Vivian couldn't bring herself to act like she didn't find his sense of humour interesting; she shifted her weight and crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you want now? Need to talk about your feelings?"

"Something like that." Julian confirmed and gestured vaguely to the few belongings that Vivian had kept with her. "Bring your sketchpad and pencils, I want you to draw this moment and remember it as the time I obliged to your wishes to have some inspiration before we go back to my _drab, boring_ city." He used those descriptive words that Vivian had previously used with a tone that suggested his city was the exact opposite of them, but Vivian was too excited to even consider retorting with another sarcastic comment; she emitted a happy squeal as she flung her arms around his shoulders, drawing a grunt from the elder—he seemed surprised that she wanted to be so close to him by choice.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Vivian chanted as she backed up, eyes practically glowing with genuine gratitude and her smile became a sweet grin as she spun on her heel, grabbing her bag from where it had been resting at the base of the tree that she had been sleeping under for the past couple of nights. Once she had confirmed that she had all of her necessary tools within her bag, Vivian shouldered it and turned to Julian; he looked a little dazed due to the abrupt change in her personality, and she could only giggle. Instead of lingering on a conversation with the other, Vivian wandered off down the discovered path that led out onto the sand; she didn't care if Julian joined her or not.

 _[ ]_

Sitting back to back in a little nook between some rocks, the two adults were hunched over pieces of landscape paper with a pencil case shared between them; they were both attempting to draw a replica of each other without looking at each other. Vivian had suggested the idea due to Julian making ignorant comments about how drawing was such an easy thing to do, because all it took was a pencil and some paper; she had been more than happy to offer a blank page from her sketchpad and a couple of art utensils, smirking at the other with a sense of pure amusement. Admittedly, she was struggling a little with the angle of his jaw and she was pushing the boundaries of fairness by trusting the description that her hallucinated self was giving as it jumped around the two, almost like it was dancing to the tune that had filled her mind upon the arrival of the hallucination.

"Pouting." It decided after several tries of drawing his mouth, drawing a string of giggles from Vivian as she erased the messier lines and added a little bit of shading. "Perfect." And if it wasn't for the presence of Julian, Vivian would have thanked the hallucination, but she simply continued to add more definition and texture to the drawing; she was more than just a little curious as to how the other drawing was coming along, though she highly doubted that it was looking good or anatomically correct. Once she reached the eyes, Vivian spared another glance to the hallucination and used one finger to gesture to her own eyes, prompting the hallucination to once again leave her and return to Julian.

"How did you get into drawing, then?" Julian questioned and Vivian was surprised that he even cared, which made it difficult for her to answer immediately. "Do you remember?"

"Not really..." Vivian muttered, though it was a partial lie as she could still remember the basic reasons as to why she had decided to start drawing and painting; she had wanted to create an outlet for her bottled up emotions and there hadn't been much else to do, other than artistic hobbies. She decided to change the subject by asking about a specific hatred that she had noticed from Julian over the past couple of days, "Why do you hate the higher angels so much?" She asked, turning a little to search through her pencil case. "The ones who sided with Gabriel are clearly the ones who're easily manipulated, but the ones that searched shelter from the war with—" She was interrupted by the other.

Julian snapped, "None of them are innocent, if that's what you're saying." Vivian paused in her search for another pencil; something felt unnecessarily evil in this conversation. "And Michael isn't someone who can save humanity, either, no matter how powerful he is; everyone has their demons." He muttered, sounding much more irritated than he had previously; he even sounded a little betrayed, as if Michael had personally attacked him, and Vivian would have found that ridiculous if it wasn't for the sense of empathy that almost immediately filled her body—she carefully placed her pencils back into their pencil case and leaned backwards against the other with surprising calmness.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked; you obviously have your reasons..." She mumbled as she glanced upwards, watching the pale blue break through the morning pinkness with more clouds of varying shapes and sizes. She admitted after a few minutes of silence, "I'm kinda jealous of them, though, it must be amazing to be able to fly."

"The archangels can cross the span of the planet within minutes." Julian stated and Vivian hummed, curious of the unsurprising fact; she could feel the other beginning to relax once again and resisted the urge to smile, instead deciding to risk a glance over his shoulder to look at the picture he had been working on—she was a little surprised to see that it actually looked good, meaning that it was anatomically correct and his shading was actually a little better than her own. "Oi!" He hissed at her, nudging her from his shoulder. He asked, "Were you just distracting me to look at my drawing?" Vivian shrugged nonchalantly.

"Nope, that's cruel; even for me." Vivian replied simply as she returned to look at her own drawing, once again picking up her pencil and continuing to make an attempt on a pair of symmetrical eyes; she had always hated drawing eyes—eyes and hands were the worst for any artist. "I just wanted to see what kinda eyes you had, because I'm not ruining this perfectly good drawing for them." She explained as she drew them in, sighing heavily; she managed to draw them without too much hassle, but she wasn't particularly proud of them. Before she could complain about them and ask Julian to end this game, she felt a bolt of fear race through her and a confusing image filled her mind; pitch black eyes with blue crescents glistening upon the dark background—she exhaled a gasp before she could muffle it, drawing her hallucination back to her; it was frowning deeply.

"Our enemies seem to have made a deal with the devil." It muttered, eyes flickering to look at Julian with disgust that seemed to be bubbling within her own stomach; she could only look to her hallucination with a sense of desperation in her eyes. It simply hissed at her, "Run or choose a death more painful than anything Gabriel could give you." Nodding her head a little, Vivian closed her sketchpad and slid it back into her bag with very little concern for whether Julian paid her any attention; she made the task of gathering her other belongings quick and without unnecessary hassle, before she got to her feet and started to look over the field of rocks and boulders that they had climbed up.

As she shouldered her bag and stepped out onto the first rock, a panicked and noisy gasp slipped from her mouth as she staggered to the side, feeling the rock move beneath her with a loud crunch to announce that it had broken free from whatever had been supporting it. She immediately jumped onto a more secure surface and balanced herself, taking a few deep breaths before she focused more on her surroundings, though another frightened gasp left her when she felt a hand on her ankle; she automatically lashed out and was met with unimpressed shouting from Julian—it only made her struggle harder with that horrifying image burnt into her mind. Julian yelled, "What's wrong with you?"

"You're one of—let me go! No, no, no!" Vivian cried as she freed her ankle from his hold, throwing herself backwards from Julian as she ungracefully climbed to her feet again. Although he looked absolutely lost and was stepping out onto the rocks with his hands extended to her, Vivian was immensely confused between the thoughts that rushed around in her mind; she couldn't even describe them as she stared down at her trembling hands, unsure of the discomfort that she felt crawling along the spine of her back and the pain that fought for control within her head—she flinched when Julian took her hands within his own, though she didn't immediately start screaming once again. Instead, she asked in a whispered an almost inaudible question, "What the hell is wrong with me?" She was surprised by how quickly she relaxed without the encouragement of the hallucination.

Julian exhaled loudly as he led her back from the death trap that they were standing over, "You're acting pretty natural for someone in our situation...don't worry." He muttered, helping the auburn take a seat back down and joining her a moment later, though he sat so that their shoulders touched instead of sitting across from her. She instinctively leaned closer to Julian and even rested her head upon his shoulder, holding onto his arm in a way that mirrored a young child clinging to their stuffed animal; maybe Julian would have mocked her for the childish action if he wasn't experiencing another side to her instability. "Do you want to show me your drawing, now?" He asked and she nodded a little.

"Can I tell you a secret, though?" Vivian replied and Julian only hummed in acknowledgement of the question; she took it as confirmation. "I don't think my amnesia is natural, and I'm really frightened of whatever is hiding itself from me..." She explained as she broke herself away from Julian a little, allowing him to lift her bag from around her without causing her any more unnecessary pain as she settled back down. "Sometimes, like, I see things in my head from ancient times...and it's like seriously detailed; nothing like the stuff high school teachers talk about...and I get random names that don't belong to anyone I know." She continued and Julian spared her a small look, seeming shocked.

"What type of names?" Julian asked with a tone that could only be described as worried; she tilted her head a little in naive confusion. He snapped with a little more aggression, "Vivian! What type of names do you get?" She started to shrug a little, though she paused when she remembered the name that had been shouted into her head earlier in a tone of voice that sounded unusually proud—she had automatically considered it the voice of an archangel due to the British lilt that had been laced into it.

"Lyrae." She stated simply and was even more confused to see a look of pure terror flashed across his face. "Julian...?" She asked, the confusion transferring into her tone slowly, flinching a little when he seemed to jump back from wherever he had been; there seemed to be something different about him, but she couldn't immediately put her finger on it. He seemed icier than previously, but not in the way that made her frightened—more in the way that made her worried and unsure of how to approach him. Thankfully for their ever dying conversation, Julian took a deep breath and focused his attention on her sketchpad, which prompted her to do the same; though she still kept her worry conscious.

As they discussed the differences between the drawing and the real deal, Vivian found herself pushing the sketchpad at Julian with a rare sense of immaturity and playfulness, shouting at him to accept the truth as he denied the drawing being accurate and pushed the sketchpad back towards Vivian. She found herself sitting between his arched legs, and she noticed that as even as they tossed back childish banter about the drawing; he was keeping a close eye on their surroundings and had an arm securely wrapped around her torso, keeping her from once again straying too far from him. He finally stopped the banter and told her that they should head back, "You're exhausted; I can sense it."

Vivian nodded and closed her sketchpad, slipping it back into her bag. "Can we leave for New Delphi tomorrow? I kinda feel safer with murderous angels and human outcasts, than I do out in the open with uncertain people rambling about rumours of murder and stuff..." She trailed off and smiled when Julian did, sensing his smugness and expressing an unusual response of amusement instead of telling him to get over himself and walking off in an irritated mood. She yawned and slipped her arms around the smirking other, slipping into the protecting warmth that Julian seemed to possess while being equally as untrustworthy, which prompted her to tuck her legs up to her chest and drift into sleep.

 _[ ]_

The radio crackled with each passing message from New Delphi, crowding the warm car with aimless announcements; it was a shockingly nice sound to hear in the dead of night. He kept the audio on low and his eyes on the ever empty road, drumming his fingers lightly against the wheel aimlessly—Julian had decided that if he had waited for Vivian to once again wake up in their usual routine, he would have been convinced to stay yet another day by the coast and he needed to return before the system crumbled and failed. Instead of locking her up in the back of the truck alone, Julian had adjusted the passenger seat so that she could lay down without the uncomfortable strain of sleeping upright, and had wrapped her up tight in one of the thick blankets they had been keeping stashed away—he had emptied her bag and used it as a pillow, too.

Maybe it was due to the boredom of driving without conversation, but Julian found himself glancing over to the sleeping redhead every couple of minutes; she looked much more peaceful when she was asleep. Her usually tense features seemed to relax into almost perfect beauty and her breathing evened out—she was clutching the edge of the seat and had her head nestled beneath her arm, which was undeniably one of the cutest things to Julian; she probably was completely unaware of how...fragile and human she looked when she wasn't lost in a setting of hardcore survival. He sighed and nervously reached over, focusing on the road for a minute, before he lifted the blanket back over her body; she moaned sleepily and clutched onto the fabric, immediately showing improvement from the small amount of discomfort in her. He smiled a little, though quickly frowned and returned his attention to the darkness looming inside of him; the thing that had sensed something wasn't quite right with Vivian, but wouldn't tell him what.

 _"Perhaps if you allowed me control, I wouldn't need to hide the truth from you."_ He snapped, sounding genuinely offended that he had lost in their mental fight for control during this whole adventure to find someone who the darkness seemed absolutely terrified of; Julian had mocked the idea of the other being scared of a little girl, who had collapsed in the heat due to being incapable of surviving without the watchful eye of someone else, but the darkness had only told him that he was a fool for believing her persona of naivety. Julian rolled his eyes at the immaturity that was his other half, "You were going to slit her throat to prove a point; I can sense that much, Lyrae." He chuckled chillingly into the quietness of the truck, humming mockingly to himself as he glanced into the windscreen to look at his reflection through his slowly darkening eyes with only crescent slits to see out into the light that was taken from every other lower angel when they possessed a human body.

"Christ, you stole a good looking one." A bored voice hummed from the seat behind his own, a pair of bloodied and bruised arms slipping around the headrest to rest upon his slowly tensing shoulders; the stranger, but not a newcomer, giggled teasingly as they slid their hands across the smooth fabric of his coat. "When did you figure it out, Lyrae?" Even though it was a simple question, it was difficult to answer without a needy whisper coming into his tone; something felt familiar about the person he hadn't noticed before, but even the angel inside of him couldn't pin down the feeling without provoking more response to the simple touches. He gasped when he felt a weight land softly upon his lap, one that was identified as a much more gruesome version of the woman sleeping next to him—but the angel half of him seemed to have no distaste towards the imperfections. She smiled, "And how come you haven't tortured my vessel for information yet? Though, I wouldn't suggest it...Vivian is something of a firewall while I rebuild my strength."

 _"What will she do if I push harder?"_ Julian— _Lyrae_ —asked, slipping one hand onto the small of her back and pulling her closer; she hummed low in the back of her throat and tangled her fingers into his hair, keeping his head pulled back as they spoke. He continued, _"Will she offer me other options on how to open you up, dearest archangel?"_

The archangel made a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, "No...she'll take on another persona carefully designed with the help of my sister, Raphael, and will become something of a cold shell; no longer the innocent girl who loves to draw and tease you, but a murderer who will rip your godforsaken city apart until she finds the man who broke her heart." She lowered her voice into a steady whisper, "Poor little Julian...destroyed by something that isn't even an archangel." She shook with muted laughter.

"I don't want to remember this conversation." Julian—the human half—stated quickly, seemingly fighting against the manipulations of Lyrae; the archangel pulled back a little, looking shocked that someone had managed to fight against Lyrae and actually voice their wishes. "I want to treat Vivian like a human, not like the firewall that you have her as; it'll keep Lyrae from gutting you and it'll give Vivian a chance to grow stronger." He added and the archangel tilted her head, shock growing into a familiar confused expression. He decided to take it one step further with a promise, "I'll keep her safe; I'll never allow another angel to hurt her, and I won't allow your brothers to take her from New Delphi."

"Even with the strength of Lyrae, you won't be able to stop my brothers from coming into your city and taking her from you; Gabriel, no matter how childish and temperamental, is someone who will slaughter _everyone_ if it means he can summon the power of his sister." She explained hurriedly, brushing her fingers through his hair. "Michael won't lay one hand on you without proof that you're not entirely human, but he has the power of Vega behind him and he will do anything to keep his family safe; you're still resonating with the soul of Lyrae and it'll take a while for you two to work in perfect harmony, so even a Dyad like you has no chance against my brothers...how will you keep Vivian safe?"

 _"If she's genuinely the firewall you claim she is, then she'll have the muscle memory of an archangel built into her; specifically your muscle memory."_ Lyrae responded, irritated by the entire promise that Julian had thrown out there without even allowing him to agree prior to the decision. _"I can teach her how to fight with the strength that you have, but only if you erase this entire conversation from our memories; we'll keep her safe while you...build your strength or whatever, if you promise us something."_

She asked, "What do you want from me?"

"Let Vivian live without your manipulation and guidance; only show yourself to her if the situation is desperate, but otherwise return to Purgatory where you've been guarding your twin brother." The Dyad told her and she lifted an eyebrow, seeming impressed that he had discovered her whereabouts without any previous suggestions to Purgatory, but she nodded her head and smiled affectionately at the other. He added, "Which side will tempt you when you finally return from Purgatory, archangel?"

"Perhaps I will join my brothers in war or I'll dance with my sister in neutrality, but I think I'll return to New Delphi one day with a proposition for a specific Dyad and ask him for help building another world without a God...maybe I'll offer him Vivian if he helps me break my brother from Purgatory and stand with them." She shrugged her shoulders a little, "Maybe you'll remember this conversation when you're about to kill me, but for now you will keep your side of the promise and continue life without recognising this memory." Pressing a small kiss to his forehead, she hummed a familiar tune of a classic rock song as she cradled his head with shocking gentleness, lulling him into a forgetful slumber; maybe he would have responded more to the tender kiss that found his lips if he wasn't immediately pushed into the unconscious abyss of sleep.

 _[ ]_

"Julian..." A sweet voice cooed into his ear, drawing a tired groan from the other as he tried to pull himself away from the irritating noise; he wanted to sleep off the headache that was engraving itself into the back of his head and he didn't really want to open his eyes right now. However, the voice was insistent and came with a gentle shoving action, prompting him to whine and open his eyes to look at whoever was shaking him awake; Vivian knelt upon the passenger seat and she seemed to have only just woke up, too. "Good morning!" She chirped with surprising cheerfulness, "Look, look! We're back at New Delphi already...though I guess that's kinda unsurprising, because the world ended—"

"Are you always this energetic in the mornings?" Julian interrupted groggily and she shrugged, which drew another tired noise from him; he opened his mouth to tell the redhead to go back to sleep and stop bugging him, when the infuriated grumbles of Gus caught his attention—the other was standing directly outside of his window with an expression that screamed murder, and Julian threw himself away from the window with a terrified scream as he was immediately pulled into the land of the living. "What the hell, Gus?!"

Vivian started laughing as she kept the other from completely collapsing backwards, while Gus smiled crookedly and pulled the car door open; allowing cool underground air to flood into the warm vehicle and wake the two up even more. Julian was half tempted to kick them both when he realised they had planned to scare him, because it was rare for Gus to express amusement around Vivian and it was even rarer for Vivian to not immediately taunt Gus upon seeing him express human emotion; instead he relaxed back into the fragile hands of Vivian and rested his head upon her lap, making the other giggle as her face heated up with an obvious blush. She smiled at Julian and he returned the smile.

"I'm guessing we're done torturing the poor girl, then?" Gus asked, sounding uncomfortable with the comfortableness that radiated between the two former enemies. Julian gave a nod of confirmation and Gus sighed, "Guess I can start being nicer to you then, kiddo." He told Vivian, who immediately looked up with a sense of genuine happiness to her. "Now...could you two please get the hell outta the vehicle and get back into the city, because there's some drama that Julian needs to take care of and you need some quarters." He told the two and even if it took them a minute to move, they both eventually jumped out from the truck and grabbed their belongings, before backing away from the truck.

"Guess I'll see you later, then?" Vivian muttered as she arranged her items back into her bag, shouldering it once she was comfortable. "Maybe you could show me your drawing, or you could help me buy some paints because I don't understand anything..." She joked and Julian smirked, amused by the clueless behaviour that Vivian expressed.

"Consider it a date." Julian replied and she automatically reached out to hit him, making him shout out in annoyance. "Why are you assuming I meant a romantic date, Vivian? Maybe I meant a platonic date...or do you want it to be a—" Vivian attempted to shove him, but he ducked backwards and chuckled as he dodged around her simple actions, starting towards one of the many doors that led back down into the city; he heard her shout something incoherent after him, but it sounded mostly like _I hope you trip, pervert!_

Fortunately, when he opened the door and waved goodbye to the flustered redhead, Julian didn't trip over anything and didn't give her the satisfaction of watching him collapse; instead he just gestured for some soldiers to join him as he walked down the gloomy corridor, heading for the prime suspects of the drama that had supposedly unfolded in his absence from New Delphi. Gus would have to take care of finding Vivian somewhere comfortable to sleep, but he was sure that they would be fine together...hopefully.

* * *

 **A/N: ...I finally finished this chapter after restarting it, oh my god. This is kinda a stepping stone chapter without much context to what happened when Julian found Vivian on the road & blah de blah, but I wanted to keep that as much of a mystery as I could; so yeah! **

**HALLUCINATION RAGUEL IS REVEALED TO ANGEL EYES, SPECIFICALLY DYAD EYES; YAY. And the first kiss of the story and an explanation of what Vivian is, because I didn't want her to be just a split personality and wanted to make it more complicated, whoops! Also, if you couldn't tell from the worry that Raguel expressed when they were talking about her brothers...I'm totally going to bring Gabriel into this story in a future chapter, because I was re-watching the show last night and noticed that the way Gabriel spoke of the city suggested he had been there before; so expect some drama with Gabe, Vi & Julian.**

 **What did you think of this chapter? Apologies for taking forever in updating, I've become really distracted and am working on pulling myself back on track with my stories, because I really enjoy writing them; despite the grammatical errors. c:**

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter; reviews are appreciated, but don't feel pressured. x**


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